Temptation
by StarFormerAdira
Summary: Jack never counted on just how persuasive Pitch could be when certain things were at stake - and, of course, it's now he realizes that Pitch can bring him something he's never had. Spoilers for the movie.


**A/N: I saw Rise of the Guardians on the 22****nd****, and I thought it was amazing – such a sweet film, full of symbolic, meaningful stuff and fantastic animation. The one thing I couldn't get over, however, was this one line that North delivers: "You were with Pitch?" around half-way through the movie. To me, a slasher, that sounds really wrong and really right all at the same time. So I made up this scene – yes, sitting in the cinema, and looking around desperately for something to write on so I didn't forget. Now, this doesn't follow the rule of the film, and I imagine it takes place during that cave scene, with Pitch and Jack, but it has some elements of the ice scene thrown in too. So enjoy. But beware: spoilers.**

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**Temptation**

"_You were with Pitch?!"_

_Yes. Yes, he had been with Pitch. But in the way that North meant, and in the way that he didn't as well._

XXX

Jack stared down at the small cylinder in his hands, still struggling to believe that it could hold all the answers he'd always wanted. If he opened it – did he want to, though?

Of_ course _he wanted to. This was it! He didn't need the Guardians to help him find his memories. Pitch had given them to him for free. If he opened it, he wouldn't have to take part in this war anymore. He'd have what he wanted, and nobody could claim him. He could leave...go...

Then dark horses with golden eyes leapt up from the darkest corners of his brain and cantered into view, bringing with them a mysterious, sultry voice that seemed to live inside the shadows.

"So what do you think?" Pitch asked softly. There was a fleeting touch to the nape of Jack's neck and he spun around, curses rising like acid to the tip of his tongue and dying down just as quickly when he saw no-one was there. Raising his staff, he cast his gaze around, on the alert, but Pitch was fast and he didn't make any noise. By the time Jack located him, it was too late.

A pale, thin hand landed on his shoulder, while the other gently stroked the length of his cheek. Jack froze, fear making his heart beat faster and his breath become shallower. He seemed to have forgotten how to move. His hands tightened on his staff, his one comfort, but even that wasn't enough to break Pitch's spell.

"I know how _badly _you want that," Pitch murmured, and Jack's eyes were drawn down to where his memories lay, encased in that golden cylinder, where he must've dropped it when Pitch had distracted him. It glimmered even in the darkness, the designs on it looking pretty and cheerful, and Jack wanted more than anything to reach for it, but if he did, he would be willingly playing into Pitch's hands.

The being behind him laughed sinisterly, and the hand on his cheek dipped lower, delivering teasing caresses to the side of his neck. Pitch's hands were just as cold as his, but the tingles that ran down his spine were not cold at all. They were an alien warmth, and Jack was afraid of them.

And Pitch thrived on fear.

"Think of what we could _be _together." Jack was intently aware of Pitch's movements, especially those regarding his fingers, which were currently roving across and down Jack's throat in such a sinfully sensual way. Jack had never, ever felt like this before, and the fact that the Nightmare King could induce such...such _pleasurable _emotions made him feel disgusted with himself. He was rooted to the spot, however. He couldn't move.

_Did he wanted to move?_

Pitch had bent down until his lips were at Jack's ear, his breath warm and steady against the boy's skin. His hand dipped lower yet again, moving past the navy sweatshirt and coming to rest on Jack's waist, already slithering between the folds of fabric and the pale skin beneath.

Jack inhaled sharply, and his heart jumped as those cold fingertips played across his bare stomach. Pitch smiled, and spoke again: "What goes better together than cold and darkness?"

His other hand, the one that had originally been resting on Jack's shoulder, was suddenly on his leg, long, tapered fingers glowing pale in this dark place, and it was sliding upwards, creating a strange friction between the material and Jack's skin. Daggers of heat blossomed from underneath Jack's skin, finding their way into his bloodstream and making his whole body glow with a warmth he'd never felt before. It was so...so _addictive_, and Jack could already feel himself caving, turning, welcoming darkness, just so long as Pitch kept making him feel that wonderful hotness.

"Hmm?" Pitch was so close that the would-be Guardian could feel his lips brushing against his cheek, and he let out a shuddering gasp, expelling all the cold from his lungs and drawing in warm. He was blistering, he was on fire, and Pitch wasn't stopping, thank God, as long as he kept going...

Jack hadn't realised that he wasn't standing by himself anymore and the moment Pitch let go of him, he crumpled forwards, landing on his knees with a sickening _crunch. _His staff fell from his grip and rolled a few metres to join his memories, looking a lot less tantalising now than they had before. Jack turned around, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth open, desperately trying to gather enough oxygen to breathe properly, and the moment Pitch's stare fell on him, he felt like he was bathed in light.

Only Pitch Black could make him feel like this.

"What do you say?" Pitch whispered throatily.

_He's so...he's so handsome, I never really noticed before. I guess I always just thought of him as the bad guy...the other Guardians were wrong, they don't know how it feels to be ignored, but he does, he understands me, doesn't he...?_

But Jack knew, deep down, deep in a place he hated to visit, that it was wrong, and no matter how Pitch made him feel, he still wanted destruction and fear and hatred and all the things Jack didn't. The Guardians were still right, and Jack was still on their side.

"Pitch..." he groaned.

The Nightmare King's smile widened, showing all his teeth, and his eyes glimmered in anticipation. "Yes?" he murmured, his voice dissolving into a seductive purr. If he had known that it would be this easy to turn Jack Frost...

"Pitch," Jack repeated, slowly regaining his control. "Pitch, I – I can't."

Pitch's smile disappeared and an ugly snarl took its place, the anger at rejection not taking its time to make itself known.

"I can't," Jack continued, trying to make Pitch understand him. "I can't, but you can. Please." He reached up, fingers outstretched, leaning towards the dark figure in front of him. "Please, come with me. They'll forgive you, I know they will, the Guardians."

At the mention of his four enemies, Pitch backed away, the concept of surrender and humiliation too much for him to take. This white-haired boy, arrogant and cheeky, yet brought so low in his presence...he was nothing. He didn't matter. He would be swatted like the Sandman had been. Pitch would not mourn for him.

He snarled and disappeared, waves of shadow rising up and spiriting him away, leaving Jack alone and already missing him on the cold cave floor.

_Sometimes cold and darkness do go together. But on this occasion, they don't._

THE END

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**And a Merry Christmas to all my watchers! This is your special gift. I hope you all get what you wanted and you have a fantastic holiday. **** Drop me a review and let me know what you think.**


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